The Swordsman Wears Prada
by GeckoMoriaShadowLord
Summary: ZoSan.Manhattan, New York. 2010 In the glittery world of fame and fashion, two brilliant models reign in the kingdom of Amazon Lily Fashions, loathing each other's very beings. And so, naturally, chaos erupts when they're forced to work together.
1. The Swordsman Wears Prada

_**Title: **_**The Swordsman Wears Prada **

_**Summary: **_Manhattan, New York. 2010 In the glittery world of fame and fashion, two brilliant models have conquered the catwalk. They are the epitome of perfection and masculine seductiveness. They both have thousands of fans and their fair share of admirers and lovers-both male and female-as well as nearly limitless wealth and extraordinary influence and power in the world. They also hate each other's guts. So when they are suddenly forced to work together in order to keep their jobs, chaos erupts.

Determined to undo the other and finish with the grueling task of cooperating, the two men race to unearth each other's lives and discover some damning evidence that could condemn the other.

As secrets are revealed and layers are unraveled faster and faster, the entire menagerie rushes to an unexpected climax and to an unsuspected conclusion.

_**Pairings: **_ Sanji x Zoro, Boa Hancock x Luffy , Franky x Nami, others

_**Rating/Warning: **_ M for Yaoi, Sex, crack, Idiocy, Lemon, Hetero smut, Vulgarities, Major Weirdness and utter strangeness

~0~

_**Prologue **_

_Click. _

The pop and flash of cameras are dazzling in the darkness of the studio.

_Click. _

The swirl of a fur cloak. It's dark sensuality enveloping a tanned and naked torso.

_Click. _

Brilliant white teeth curved in a seductive smile.

_Click._

~0~


	2. The Cook Wears Gucci

_**Chapter 2**_

The Cook Wears Gucci

I am I'm too fabulous, I'm so fierce that it's so nuts

I live to be model thin, Dress me i'm your mannequin

J'adore vivienne i really want

Pucci fendi and cardin valentino armani too, Madame love them jimmy choo

Fashion put it all on me, Don't you want to see these clothes on me

Fashion put it all on me

I am anyone you want me to be, I am anyone you want me to be

We love designer, I need some new stilettos

Can't walk down the street in those, You are who you wear it's true

A girl's just as hot as the shoes she choose, J'adore weitzman i really want

Louis dolce gabbana alexander mcqueen, Madame love those minolo

-"_Fashion", Lady Gaga_

~0~

"All right! We're done with that set-up! Great job Sanji!", the photographer, a young man with bushy black hair, long black eyelashes oversetting big brown eyes, and a strange long nose threw the blonde male model a thumbs up, "I've got some amazing shots!"

"Yeah? Good, 'cuz I'm dying of the heat in this fucking fur coat. Seems like you always pick the weirdest things for me to wear, Usopp. The weirdest _and_ the most uncomfortable.", Sanji paused to throw the photographer a look of faux suspicion.

Sanji shrugged out of the heavy brown Gucci fur coat and threw it lightly at the long-nosed photographer, then stretched, relishing the cold air on his sweaty body. He had only been wearing the coat and a pair of tight black satin Armani dress pants for this particular shoot.

"Maybe, but I'm the best photographer in these here parts!", Usopp boasted, puffing out his chest and striking a pose, "I used to work with Farah Fawcet and Marilyn Monroe when I naught but a wee tyke."

"You're an idiot; you weren't even born back then.", Sanji said, rolling his eyes and toweling the sweat from his body with a small towel. "What's next?"

"The bar scene, I think. I'm in the mood for it.", Usopp said, rifling through the clipboard in his hands, "Yeah, the bar scene…Hey! Set up the bar everyone! Come on people, get your asses moving!" The two dozen or so people who were mulling around, either working lights, cameras, or special effects jumped to it quickly, chatting cheerfully as they went.

"Franky! Get the bar hooked up to the light source," Usopp called out, "And then hang that chandelier right in front of the bar!"

"SUPA! Leave it to me!", a middle-aged man with obscene electric blue hair swept up in the epitome of all duck-ass hairdos, wearing only a unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt so loud it could have caused permanent eye damage, and a tiny dark blue thong, rushed to follow the photographer's bidding.

"Nami! Get Sanji the black fur coat again!", Usopp threw the heavy coat at a nearby red-head.

"Right away Captain Usopp! Should I get him his smokes too?", Nami caught the fur coat gracefully and looked to the young man with attention.

"Say that again please Nami….", Usopp stroked his chin suavely.

"Should I get him his smokes too?"

"No, no, the other part…."

Nami just giggled and shook her head; and walked to where Franky had finished dragging out the set-a large, cut-off of a bar, and hung a huge, ornate crystalline chandelier. Sanji was leaning against the polished mahogany counter of the bar and chatting with the thonged man.

"Sanji dear! Your coat!", Nami handed it to him with a flourish.

"Nami~ Thank you so much for helping me…you're such an amazing woman…", Sanji said, maneuvering Nami near him and slipping a lecherous hand around her shoulders.

"Save the tone, Sanji," Nami laughed, shrugging out of the circle of his arms and moving to stand with Franky, "I'm engaged. _And_ you have a lover." The blue-haired man grinned and put a large hand on the red-head's slim waist, "The wedding is going to be SUPA. I'm going to playing guitar and dancing for everyone!"

"Ah, I always forget that you two got together…", Sanji shrugged and smiled cheerfully, not in the leasr put down, "Franky, I already got your wedding present all picked out-picture this: a thong made out of _solid gold_."

"SUPAR!"

Nami whacked him on the back, "Idiot!"

"Hey, hey, hey! Enough chit-chat over there.", Usopp yelled, banging his fist on a nearby table, "Everybody, to their places!"

Nami dragged Franky off hurriedly, and Sanji quickly slipped back into the heavy confines of the fur, waiting patiently for further directions.

"Dim the lights Franky! And then turn on the blue lights.", Usopp yelled, focusing his camera. "Sanji-get on the bar and lie down on it, stretch out full length."

Sanji resisted an urge to roll his eyes again, but he obeyed-clambering onto the bar and lying on his side.

"All right! Now, open your jacket a little more and turn up the collar."

He did, pushing the sides of the coat apart to reveal his abs and pecs, looking hard enough to cut diamonds.

"Push your jacket to the side on the top. Reveal your hip!", Usopp ordered. Saniji did, and placed his hand and wrist lazily over the curve of his waist.

_I seriously would think he's gay if he wasn't banging Kaya. And if he didn't wake up in mortal terror after we had sex that one time…_Sanji thought, grinning suddenly, as he remembered that not-too-faraway night where he had managed to persuade the long-nosed photographer to come home with him for a 'harmless sleepover'.

The sex had been good, as it always was, when he was involved. Kind of strange, afterward, thinking that he had just fucked his photographer and friend. But, it had been worth it. Usopp definitely had that 'pretty guy' thing going in his favor; and anyway, he didn't like being around people he _hadn't _fucked.

"Stop smiling Sanji! It ruins the mood! Try to look like you own the place, and you are silently, yet seductively inviting anybody to enter your lair of dark sexuality!"

Sanji adopted the said expression, and tried not to laugh outright. Usopp had a way with words, that was obvious. He should have been a writer-Usopp had missed his calling when he had entered the photography biz. But he would be lying if he said that Usopp wasn't a good photographer. The long-nose just had a knack with all things that involved shooting.

Usopp zoomed the camera in and out, adjusting the blurriness around the edges with the computer that was close at hand, adding a layer of shadow there, illuminating an object there…"Hmmm, no, I don't think so, nope-not gonna work…Franky!", Usopp yelled, after shaking his head and muttering for a few seconds-"Kill the blue lights! They're too cold…this is supposed to be a warm, rich, _inviting_ scene in which the model is beckoning to the viewer into the heat of his glory.."

Franky frowned, "Sooo…turn on the orange light?"

"Yes! But put the brown filter over it so that it's not Halloween orange, but more of a golden atmosphere.", Usopp ordered.

"Supa.", Franky switched on the appropriate light, "This better?"

"Perfect!", Usopp called, "All right, Sanji-look cool, look bored-but look as if though you're observing the viewer-beckoning to him to enter into your domain of carnal lust…"

"Okay, Usopp, calm down now."

"Sanji! You can't talk! You'll ruin everything! Okay, now smile a bit, _but only a bit!_ Just a slight curve to your lips that is reminiscent of a jackal hunting his prey. A promising hint of a smile that makes the mind wonder to how you would look sweaty and naked.."

"I get it."

"Stop talking!", Usopp screeched, "I'm going to take the shot in a few seconds! But everything has to be perfect! Are you in the mood?", Sanji watched in amazement as his photographer seemed to enter a fever pitch, he swelled up and hissed, "Usopp SPEEEeeeL~ Imagine your whole body quivering with need! Imagine hundreds of scantily dressed ladies and, er, men surrounding you waiting to be invited in! Imagine the passion of being made love to by all of them…at the same time!"

_I would think he's a little touched in the head if it wasn't for such genius_, Sanji thought, but he already could feel the words working on him-calming him, relaxing him, arousing him…

He could feel every pore of his body open up and respond to the chant; the studio faded away and was replaced by an admiring throng of handsome men and beautiful women. Sanji threw his head back and whipped it forward again, sending his dirty blonde hair tumbling down his face-a hint of sexual disarray.

Sanji shook the fur coat a little more open, and with one hand opened his pants sipper, letting a small triangle peep through-a teasing suggestion to what was underneath.

He slid a hand across his hip and rested it on the ridge, seemingly on the verge of pushing the rest of the satiny material off. The other hand he entangled in his hair-letting nothing get in the way of his body.

Letting his eyelids droop, Sanji opened his mouth a little, relaxing his jaw-looking and feeling as though he were getting an excellent handjob by some young, stilettoed beauty.

But what's more, Sanji didn't stop at looking like a porn star, he _willed_ his whole body to respond,

"Perfect! Sanji, perfect!", Usopp yelled, "Cut! People, cut! We're good! Sanji-you're great!" The photographer was nearly dancing in joy. Sanji smiled in response, coming down from what he called 'the model high' only slowly. "All right! Everybody, you guys can take a small break while we move on to the next scene-what I like to call, 'Lovely Stranger meets Fate in a lonely bar'" Usopp looked smug.

"Amazing, bro!". Franky called out, walking with Nami towards the bar set, "I was seriously getting goosebumps for a second there!", his mouth was smudged with lipstick.

"Let me guess-you got so horny that you had to have some?", Sanji asked wryly, giving Nami a _oh-how-could-you-I-thought-you-loved-me!_ look.

"How'd you know?", Franky asked, looking sheepish, "Were we to loud? OW~" He was interrupted by Nami grinding her heel into his bare foot. "BABY~"

"Idiots! Why do I put up with you? Sanji-that will cost you $150 dollars. I almost broke my heel! Franky feels as hard as steel! And these are Jimmy Choo stilettos you know!", Nami barked, a strange glitter in her eyes.

"Yes, my sweet~", Sanji twirled around enthusiastically, "Anything for you~"

Franky was guffawing, "That's not the only part of me which is hard! OW!"

"Hmmph. You guys are perverts.", Usopp harrumphed, walking in and joining their little circle, "Good job Sanji. Are you ready for the next shoot?"

"What? Is our break over already?", Sanji complained, putting on the puppy-dog face.

"In a few minutes. We have to clear out by one o' clock-someone else booked the studio for the day." Usopp frowned, "I thought I booked it for the entire day, but I guess not."

"Hey, long-nose bro…Are you going back to cook-bro's place tonight? Huh? Huh? _Huh?_", Franky nudged the photographer's ribs lecherously, "Going to discuss the nest shoots, _man-to-man_? Maybe over champagne?" Nami giggled and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes darting back and forth between the long-nosed man and his model. Franky looked simply devilish.

Sanji grinned just as Usopp turned beet-red, and catching on to the joke, he slipped a hand around Usopp's shoulders and yanked him in front of him, letting no space enter between their bodies, "I don't have a problem with that…", he whispered into Usopp's ear, letting the words carry for the other's benefit.

Franky and Nami looked as if they were trying not to burst out laughing and Usopp had nearly frozen in shock, "Uh, uh-Sa-Sa-Sanji, you promised not to talk about that anymore!", he squeaked, his hand strayed towards the pocket of his jeans, where his pepper spray was located.

"Talk about what? _Oh, I know…you mean when we had sex together…is that what you're talking about?", _Sanji dropped his voice seductively, his hands wandered across the trembling body in front of him.

"Um-yes, that. You said-"

"_What? You didn't like it?"_, Sanji whispered, sounding hurt, knowing that he was going to hell someday for all the torture he inflicted on his photographer. Franky was turning a dangerous shade of purple with repression.

"No! Of course, I, um, did. But it shouldn't have happened…I mean, I have Kaya-"

"_So you didn't like it when I fucked you? Or when I sucked you off? You didn't live it when I cried out your name?"_, Sanji let his voice drop, Franky and Nami certainly did _not_ need to know just how far things had gone between them.

"Um-er-Sanji-", Usopp was babbling, and Sanji marked down a silent victory. The day he couldn't reduce _anyone_ by just his honeyed words, was the day he put down the fur coat and went down and got a real job. He silently grinned into Usopp's neck.

"Sanji, I hope you're not cheating on me with that photographer.", a deep voice called out. Sanji stiffened and then relaxed, releasing Usopp reluctantly. The long nosed man nearly bolted to hide behind Franky's wide frame the second Sanji hold relaxed.

"Of course not, darling…", Sanji turned and slid himself up the newly-arrived man, conveniently letting his fur coat fall open, "I was merely…getting ready for you…" He tilted his head perfectly, accepting the rough, achingly chaste kiss from the man.

Another blonde, like himself. No model this one. And maybe that's why Sanji had chosen him to grace with his breathtaking presence. Paulie de Cuerda was one of the stage crew workers who worked with Franky; his loving was rough and sincere; to the point. Sanji had found it a little too addictive for his own good. He had been with Paulie for three, four weeks now-amazingly the longest affair he'd ever been in. There were rumors that he had been 'caught'.

Sanji kissed Paulie a second time, making it slow and lingering, "Hmmm…I would never cheat on you…", he snuggled his hands into Paulie's bell.

"Hey, your reputation is what it is.", Paulie replied, "When do you get off, baby?" His hands affectionately closed the fur coat, drawing the sides together to cover the revealed skin.

"At one. Why? Want to take me home? You can spend the night.", Sanji pressed himself closer, "But, unfortunately, there's only one bed…"

Paulie kissed him again gently, "All right." That was it. Gentle acceptance.

Sanji felt a wave of affection pass him for the other blonde, he could be a total whore and this man still treated him with gentleness and respect. That might not seem like a lot, but it was. Abruptly, he dropped the sexy model act, "Yeah? Okay. You want to go to my place right now? Pick up some beer and maybe take a shower, get some rest? You don't have to wait up for me."

Paulie grinned and shook his head, taking his time to pull out a heavy Cuban cigar from the pocket of his baggy blue pants. Sanji's hand slid into his own pocket and pulled out his Givenchy, plated gold, lighter and he wasted no time in lighting up the tip for his lover.

"Nah," Paulie said, "I'll stick around, watch you pose. I'll take a shower when you're there."

Sanji smirked, "You're making me want a ciggie…or at least _something_ in my mouth."

"Wait 'til we get home, Sanji.", Paulie said, taking his cigar out and leaning forward to kiss him again. Sanji let his tongue slip in for a moment, tastebuds straining to absorb the smoky flavor.

They pulled apart, slightly, noses touching, "Home?", Sanji asked softly, his sultry blue eyes boring into Paulie's blue glacier ones.

"Home, to me, is where you are.", Paulie answered calmly, "It's fine if you don't-WOAH, WOMAN!", his eyes dilated suddenly, "What the HELL are you wearing?", he backed away from Sanji suddenly and pointed at something behind him. "How many times do I have to tell you to wear LONG PANTS!"

"Sanji, I'm so sorry to interrupt your little cozy chat but Usopp wants you to get back on set, he's too scared to approach you right now.", Nami said sarcastically, "And there's no way in HELL I'm going to cover up these legs you know! I don't keep myself in shape for nothing, you know!" Her eyes were daggers at Paulie. "Anyway, look at your lover! He's barely covered!"

"That's because he's a model! It's his job! And he looks better that you-ARGH!" Nami dealt him a swift blow to the jewels.

"_I dare you to say that again.",_ Nami snarled, great flames seemed to burn fiercely about her as she shook her clenched fist at the prone body of Paulie lying cradling on the floor, cupping his privates, his eyes streaming tears.

"S-Sorry…"

"Nami, sweet, Don't kick Paulie in the balls-I use those!", Sanji cried, looking mortified, indignant, and fearful all at the same time.

"I'm sure you can kiss them and make them feel all better, tonight.", Nami declared smugly, "Usopp wants you to get in place Sanji. Hurry up, or we won't have enough time to finish this shoot before we have to get out. Time is money, you know."

"Yes, Nami~", Sanji floated off to the set, clambering on the wooden stage and leaning on one of the spinning barstools. "Ready!", he called to the long nose.

"Sanji, I want you to be leaning on the edge of the counter, right next to one of the barstools," Usopp called out from his vantage place, still sounding a little flustered, "But not yet, we're waiting for Robin."

"I have been ready for a while, Mr. Mentiroso.", a tall, black-haired woman wearing a long, flowing dark purple dress walked out from behind one of the changing screens, had her make up and hair checked and perfected one last time and walked elegantly on the set.

"All right, thanks Robin. Sanji, you know Robin, right?"

"How can I forget?", Sanji answered smoothly, "Ms. Nico, if I am not mistaken?" He bent forward to raise her hand and kiss it. Robin Nico, a great beauty, no doubt about it. The kind of woman he would be chasing after if he hadn't had a steady partner for a while now.

"You presume correctly Mr. Ceja.", Sanji smile widened as he heard Robin pronounce his last name correctly, with a soft C and the J pronounced like an H. Definitely a woman after his own heart. Though he knew he would never cheat on Paulie.

Franky strolled over to where Paulie sat in a folding chair, watching Sanji and Robin, and smoking,, "Hey bro. I don't know how you can stand Sanji's fooling around." He grinned and patted the other blonde on the back hard.

Paulie tried not to wince at the heavy touch, "Sanji hasn't cheated on me."

"SUPA. Yeah, I know, bro. The last thing he did was his little fling with Usopp over there, a month ago. That was SUPA funny! Then, you kind of caught his eye and he hasn't been strutting around like he always does. I mean, he'd have Robin's number by this point, but I didn't even hear him ask."

Paulie grunted, "I trust him.", he sighed and closed his eyes, the puffs of his cigar floating in lazy circles, "You know, when I first saw him, I didn't think much of him-thought that he was just like any other model…but then I'd hear him joking around behind the sets with you guys, and he was just a normal guy. He cussed, he drank, he smoked. And…"

Paulie turned red and coughed, "And he was pretty handsome, kind of turned my head whenever he passed by. And he wasn't a stranger either, as soon as he recognized me as one of the engineers for the set, he'd always say hello, ask how I was, you know, the usual." Paulie smiled, "Small stuff…but it was nice."

The engineer's ice-blue eyes followed Sanji's every move on the set, as if remembering, " And I was always there when he was doing his thing, up in front of the cameras, smiling, waving, stroking himself, sometimes barely wearing anything…and then I kind of realized that I kind of liked him…I mean, women never really caught my eye. "

Paulie dragged in another long smoky breath, then let it out, continuing, "It seemed like he was posing for me, that he was doing it for my benefit. But I didn't do anything, I never thought he'd ever be interested in one of the blue-collar people like me. I mean, he was a star, and I was just the guy in the back who tinkered around with tools, got dirty, got grease in my hands and dirt under my fingernails."

" I knew he liked guys too, but I never thought in terms with me. I thought he just liked models and celebrities like himself. And me? I've always liked guys too. Then one day, I went out for a smoke break and he was standing there, looking through his pockets for a match and cursing. And I offered my lighter, and he said thanks and we smoked together. And I was getting ready to go inside. Kinda said something stupid like, 'If you need a light, I always carry one with me' and before I could even open the door he kind of grabbed be and slammed me on the wall."

Paulie chuckled, not opening his eyes, but leaning back his head and stretching out his long legs, "I thought he was pissed! Man, he was strong, too. I know I'd seen his muscles when he posed for the cameras, but it surprised me. It was like I thought they were just for show or something. Well, he slammed me and it hurt and my mind was racing, thinking I'd pissed him off bad, and I was kissing my job good bye.", Paulie grinned suddenly, remembering, "But it turns out that he was the one who did the kissing."

"Wahhhhh~ what a TOUCHING story, bro! The story of two men and their blossoming romance~, Franky, who had been listening to the entire story, enrapt, burst into tears when it was clear that Paulie had ended. "It makes me feel like singing~", Franky paused to unstrap a heretofore hidden guitar from his back, "Two Sultry Peach Flowers in the Spring of their Lives…chop!"

"Shut up idiot!", Paulie yelled, suddenly blushing, a little belatedly. "What the hell is you problem?"

Usopp's eyebrows had been twitching non-stop throughout the commotion behind him, and finally he exploded, "Both of you! Shut the fuck up! The great ME is working! Sanji! Tell your idiot of a lover to shut it! I can't focus!"

"Paulie…baby, please…", Sanji dutifully called out from where he was posed leaning on the bar with Robin.

"Sorry-Sanji.", Paulie shoved Franky away, "Get out of here Flam."

Franky went, still crying. Usopp turned back to his models, "Okay, Sanji. I want you to strike a casual pose on that bar, looking at Robin as if though you were thinking about her in bed-"

Sanji died laughing inside, Usopp was such a funky little guy, looking at him, no one would think he was such a kinky bastard inside. But Sanji obeyed, he glanced down at the black hair covered head and adopted an expression of lust, barely restrained.

"Robin, turn your head away from him, look at the bottles or whiskey on the wall, kind of twist your body away from him-but don't look as if you're avoiding Sanji-act like you don't even know he's there."

Robin did, rearranging her body to Usopp's instructions.

"All right. Good. Now, Sanji push off that coat from your shoulders, but don't slide your arms out of it, just push it down enough so it looks like a tube-top-yeah-like that-good."

Paulie unconsciously bit down hard on the cigar in his mouth as Sanji's bare shoulders slid out of the heavy coat, looking white and deceptively vulnerable, looking as if though aching for the right someone to seize them and kiss their secret hollows and dips of flash.

"Perfect-Sanji-just perfect.", Usopp grinned and flashed him a thumbs up, "Now, we just need a few more poses and-_will someone get that freaking door?_" Usopp turned to glare in the direction of the large studio doors, where a steady and increasingly loud knocking had been going on since Usopp had started talking.

"SUPA. Leave it to me, bro.", Franky rushed off to open it.

"Oh, there's someone already using Studio 29?", a voice came floating in and Usopp turned, his territorial hackles up

"_Yes_, the great Usopp is using this studio.", Usopp rose up, puffing out his chest and fixing the Prada bandana tied around his bushy hair, "Is that you Chopper?"

"Usopp? Yeah, it's me. " A young man, looking all of fourteen years old came timidly into the room, followed by a little troop of people, who, by the equipment and cameras they carried, were obviously the new comer's stage crew.

"Well, Chopper.", Usopp said, abandoning his camera and sauntering over to his young co-worker, "I already had booked this place until one. It's barely twelve forty nine."

"Oh, sorry Usopp!", Chopper shuffled his feet embarrassedly, "I must have looked at the clock wrong. I thought it was nearly two."

"Well, that's fine.", Usopp said loftily, "When you're a great photographer like me, you'll be able to tell time instantly. As well as stop and start it at your instant desire…"

"Wow, Usopp!", Chopper squeaked, his eyes going round and lighting up so brightly, one could almost see the stars swirling around his head in a brilliant cascade.

"Idiot. He's lying. Don't fall for something like that Chopper."

Usopp's eyebrows rushed together furiously as a man approached, sauntering his way over; a large brown whiskey bottle held causally in one large hand.

"Who dares to call me, the great Usopp Mentiroso, a liar!", Usopp drew himself up and looked down his not-modest nose at the offending persona, whose large cowboy hat obscured his face.

"Uh-Usopp this is-", Chopper looked nervously between them.

"I don't care who the hell It is!", Usopp said haughtily, "I am the great ME."

The man lifted his large black hat from his voice, "Mr. Mentiroso…I've heard about you; maybe you've heard of me?" The earrings glittered mutely.

"This is Zoro Roronoa.", Chopper shuffled his feet, "I forgot to tell you that I was managing his contract for this month until the new guy comes in to take over for me."

Usopp gave Zoro a perfect ninety degree bow, "I'm sorry."

Zoro chuckled and dismissed the long-nosed photographer with a shrug of his broad shoulders, "Who are you-_oh_…if it isn't Sanji Ceja.", his black eyes fixated on the strutting blonde on stage who hadn't even noticed the intrusion, as occupied as he was by Robin. His grin flashed out, careless and dangerous.

"Well, Usopp, we'll let you finish your shoot, but do you mind if we just drop all our equipment in the back while you finish? That way, we wouldn't have to carry all that stuff back-", Chopper looked at Usopp hesitatingly. "We won't bother you."

"What? Yeah, sure. I'll finish this off then.", Usopp, still looking a little dazed, walked off muttering to himself.

He was nearly to his station in front of the set by the time he realized that he was being followed by the source of his surprise.

"Gah! Wha-wha-what do _you_ want?", Usopp stammered, getting his hands into a exaggerated Karate position.

"I just wanted to tag along and see how the great Usopp Mentiroso worked.", Zoro said smoothly, knowing that flattering praise was the man's weakness, "I hope you don't mind…?"

"Wha-Of _course not~_" Usopp threw a warm hand around Zoro's shoulders, though he had to reach up to do so since Zoro was half a foot taller, "You, my friend, have an eye for talent…"

Sanji, who had finally noticed the new, _unwelcome,_ presence, rolled his eyes as Usopp melted into a warm pile of goo in the bastard's hands.

"Usopp! What'dya want me and Robin to do now?", Sanji called out; deciding to ignore the other man entirely. He had class after all.

"Uh, we only have time for one more shot, then we'll finish it up tomorrow", Usopp shuffled through his notes, "This one-Robin, you're in the corner, in the shadow-going for the mysterious spider spinning nefarious webs in the eaves, and Sanji …you're sitting in one of the table's chairs and tilting it back, all cool like."

Sanji seated himself appropriately, hefting his black dress boots onto the rounded table and tilted it back, letting his six-pack show, and on a note of inspiration, he dug out a packet of Cools and lit up with the same lighter that he had lit Paulie's cigar.

"I was right about to suggest that.", Usopp commented from where he was directing the lights, "Hey, you-illuminate Robin's eyes and the leg that comes out from the slit in her dress-nothing else."

Sanji gave the camera a heated, just-between-you-and-me-look; one of his specialties. But to his indignant annoyance, from the corner of his eye he could see Zoro Roronoa watching him silently from where he stood next to Usopp. With difficulty, Sanji restrained his eyebrow from spasaming wildly or from scrunching up in a ridiculous little ball as it did when he was really angry.

Well, it wasn't like he was _angry_, he just had a, what he was sure was a _mutual_ dislike for the other man. Thankfully, the _other_ had gone off somewhere for the past half year or so and their contact had been kept at a minimal.

Paulie gave Zoro a level glance, not liking the way the other man was watching Sanji pose, and quickly motioned Franky over to him, "What's the story with him?", he whispered, cocking his thumb at the green-haired figure. "Ex-lover, maybe?"

Franky smirked, "Zoro? He's a pretty good guy actually. I've drank with him a few times-he can really put away the Jack Daniels, let me tell you."

Sanji cracked his neck, letting his head roll slowly from one side to the other, tilting it so that the muscles in his neck strained. Zoro Roronoa was nobody to him. A colleague. A fellow employee. Nothing more. Just another male model under the pay of the ever beautiful Mrs. Hancock Boa. Sure Zoro was considered one of the best in this business, but, hell so was he.

The blue-haired engineer placed a conspiratory hand on Paulie's shoulders, "Bro-Sanji's like a cat, right? A handsome, cuddly, easy-to-handle cat when he's the center of attention in a thirty mile radius. He's completely and utterly content when everything goes his own way… _and when there's no other cats around."_

That stupid green-haired idiot was still watching him-probably hoping to gain some tips on how a _real_ model did it. Sanji grimaced inside- he seriously didn't know what the fashion industry was coming to is models like _Zoro_ were rivaling _him_ in popularity. _Shit_, it just annoyed the _fuck_ out of him to have someone even _near_ his level. Not that he would ever admit it though.

Franky cocked a thumb at Zoro, "That's the other cat."

God damn it! His very _face_ was pissing him off with every second that passed and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Anybody else he could have bluntly ordered out of the room. But _Zoro_ had a paycheck the size of his; the same number of fan clubs; the same number of admirers; the same _admirers _themselves; the same level, the same height; the same _fucking everything_! Hell, their dick sizes were probably the same!

Paulie grinned around his cigar, "Ohhhh…So I got nothing to worry about there? Or not?"

Franky shrugged, "Who knows bro? With Sanji, it's never sure. And I hear Zoro doesn't have any qualms with who he sleeps with either. But hey, Sanji's never mentioned sleeping with him-and you know Sanji, he tells _everybody _who's he's slept with."

And that reminded him-even their lovers were the same! Couple months ago he'd seen a pretty little model whom he had a fling with walking around under Zoro's arm. That had hurt. Even though he was with someone else by then.

"Are we done here Usopp?", Sanji asked, his voice ragged with suppressed anger. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he didn't fall down as soon as he got up-his knees felt like they were shaking with mere _loathing_.

"Yeah, good job Sanji.", Usopp grinned and winked at him, apparently in a good mood, "We'll finish up tomorrow-_hey, everyone, start cleaning up!_", he paused and motioned Sanji to come join them. Them being him and the idiot. Sanji groaned inside, but jumped off the stage and headed towards them.

As soon as he got there Zoro stuck out his hand, "Pleasure meeting you. Sanji…is it?"

_As if you didn't know_, Sanji snarled inside his head, noting the omission of the other introducing his own name, like Zoro thought the notion that everybody didn't know his name ridiculous. Sanji imagined himself kicking the fool in the face, but coolly took the offered hand, shaking it firmly, resisting the childish impulse to squeeze the shit out of it as soon as his hand grasped it "It is-"

He was jerked out of his reply, when Zoro squeezed his hand and pulled him slightly forward, finishing with a quick kiss on the cheek. It was as soft as a whisper, but it lingered.

Sanji's mouth gaped, and a hand reached up dreamily to touch the spot where the other's lips had grazed. Paulie was suddenly at his side, slipping a hand around his waist, and positively glaring at Zoro with a territorial macho _this-is-mine_ look.

Zoro smirked and pretended to wipe the kiss away from Sanji's cheek, "Oh, fuck-sorry. I've been in Europe for the past year or so…I kind of got used to kissing people on the cheek when we meet." He didn't even look at Paulie.

"Ah.", Sanji managed to say, "Well, that was _unexpected_…Europe, eh?"

"Yeah. I was there for a-"

"That's nice, Zoro.", Sanji interrupted, "But I really have to go-I have a busy schedule you know. You'll understand when you're older. Maybe we can talk later." He was laughing like a demon inside. The kiss had been weird, and unexpected, not to mention awkward. But his recovery time hadn't been too shabby. Sanji congratulated himself mentally.

Turning, he seized Paulie's hand and marched off, sashaying his hips satisfactorily, not even bothering to say good-bye.

Zoro watched him leave. Chuckling quietly. Sanji hadn't changed a bit since he had last seen him nearly a year ago. He was still the self-same idiotic, sexually-deprived, sexually fixated, stuck-up, muscled, hot blonde that he'd known and disliked immediately since he'd first seem him. The idiot hadn't changed a bit.

But that was fine. Because neither had he.

~0~

_**Author's Note:**_ _**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. I love you who take the time and patience to read these stories of mine and tell me what you thought of them! :D**_

_**Note: Sanji's name is Sanji Ceja (pronounced seh-hah) Ceja means "Eyebrow" in Spanish. Usopp's name is Usopp Mentiroso (pronounced like it looks) which means "Liar" in Spanish. Paulie's name is Paulie de Cuerda (pronounced deh Kwer-duh) which means 'Of the Rope" in Spanish.**_


	3. The Empress Wears Versace

_**Dedication: **_Yo, this shit be for **Green-san**. She always was supportive of this story. Thanks to you! :D

_**Chapter 3**_

The Empress Wears Versace

Everybody line up; The show is about to start, Places, the show is about to start  
You have to show a look, have a look, or give a look  
Faces, beautiful, No one ugly allowed  
Are you ready? Here we go  
Fashion is the art, designers are the gods  
Models play the part of angels in the dark  
Which one of you would ever dare to go against  
That beauty is a trade and everyone is paid  
Fashionista, how do you look? Fashionista, how do you look?  
New York, London, Paris, Milan, Tokyo, I think it's in Japan  
Asia, Malaysia, Las Vegas to play, LA, if you pay my way  
Fashionista, how do you look? Fashionista, how do you look?  
Fashionista, how do you look? Fashionista, how do you look?  
Who you wearing?  
Sean John, Calvin Klein; Donna Karan's fashion line, Valentino, YSL, Ferragamo and Chanel  
Halston, Gucci, Fiorucci, Don't forget my Pucci, Fendi and Armani, God, I miss Gianni  
Kenneth Cole, Michael Kors, Mr. Ford I can't afford, D&G and BCBG, Looking good is never easy  
Alexandre Percovitch, Naomi Campbell's such a bitch, I wanna be Delgada, To fit into my Prada  
Oscar de la Renta, Louis Vuitton, Imitation of Christ, beauty has a price  
Fashionista, how do you look? Fashionista, how do you look?  
Fashionista, how do you look?

What are you wearing?

"_Fashionista, Jimmie James"_

~0~

Zoro had been back for two weeks already. It was infuriating. Sanji didn't have one calm, peaceful day in which he didn't see Zoro. The idiot was everywhere, walking through the hallways with a suaveness that was envied by one and all; picking up some chow at the building's restaurant on the third floor, pissing in the goddamn urinal three sections over, holding out a well shaped tool that would have been the pride of many a man.

Infuriating. Simply infuriating.

Whenever they saw each other, Sanji would give a thin, satirical smile and Zoro would nod back, looking as cool as a cucumber, as if Sanji was just a manservant, hired at the other's whim. But two could play at that game. And that was it. No more stupid kisses, thank God.

Infuriating, as he said. But at least it was workable, _tolerable_. Little did he know that the trouble was just beginning.

Meanwhile, he continued his reign in the kingdom of fashion, a sleek and suave god which had only need crook his finger and tilt his head for the full gratification of his wishes. He was the honey of Amazon Lily Fashions—the one for whom the front pages of _Vouge_, _Elle, _and _Vanity Fair _were reserved. He need only wear a brand name to send the sales skyrocketing—and if he abandoned one, then the designer himself would personally invite him out in order to fill his ears with tempting bargains which amounted to nothing more than juicy money deals all for pimping his body with the label's name.

All in all, it was exactly what he had been used to ever since he had been spotted modeling some relatively unknown fashion line in order to pay his way through college. It had been something that he had laughed at, doing it only to bring in the modest checks. All he had to was place his limbs in the correct positions and wear what they told him.

Even now, he did the same things. Things hadn't changed at all except for the fact that he was never without fame, women, and money. And the fact that everywhere he went he was scrutinized, hated, adored, and envied.

If asked, he would say that he had become a little intoxicated by the lights and the bank account which was now hitting the seven numbers level. It was a little disconcerting. But more than anything, he clung desperately and stubbornly to the old him—to the blond individualist who had picked up his suits at bargain prices in thrift stores and who had worn old vintage t-shirts when he had wanted to run to the store and pick up some flour.

Paulie had been sort of a safe haven from the lights and bloodthirsty nature of fashion. The blond engineer who tooled around in the back, fixing the sets which he would recline on was the perfect man to have when he wanted a break from the vogue. With him, Sanji was just a rough typical Joe.

But it wasn't like he hated his life of clothes prostitution. He didn't even dislike it, not even when the superficiality was suffocating. It was just something that paid the bills and which he cavorted in with playful glee. He liked being photographed and adored, of being a star among stars, of having the power to make or break any designer's fortunes. He liked walking out on the street and seeing paparazzi snapping candid shots, marking his shoes, his slacks, his suits, and his choice of earring.

He liked the parties—the elegant cocktails in which so many were eaten alive and so many left in tears. He liked looking around and seeing dozens of eyes on his body. He liked seeing his outfits copied the next day. He liked seeing the men dye their hair blond and letting it grow out so that it could cover their right eye. He liked the presents sent him; the Armani shoes, the Fendi suits, the Gucci sunglasses.

Most of all he liked the models. Beautiful, classy women whom loved him and pampered him unashamedly. Always a sucker for an eye, beautifully outlined with Bobbie Brown eyeliner, and gorgeously shadowed with Bare Minerals powered eye colors; he surrounded himself with the beauties which were the angels of the fashion world.

He was free to pick and choose which labels he would represent—though Hancock made sure to have him in her own Amazon Lily designs most of the time—so the autonomy of his trade was liberal.

Yes, for a guy who had once been mopping up the swill of his dad's restaurant as a young man, he had come far. And he intended to stay that way. Sanji Ceja was the darling of the world's aesthetic fashion. And _no one_ was going to usurp his tyrannical rule, and neither would he support a dual partnership. It went without saying that the intrusion of Zoro Roronoa was a clear danger to his monarchy.

He would not permit for this façade to continue.

~0~

"Hand him that Calvin Klein belt—right, the one with the white leather and the gold buckle," Usopp directed the shoot as usual. Today Sanji was modeling Klein, Prada would come later. Today, he was leaning against a billiard table, a dark and gloomy stage set was in the background, the light focused on him and the way the gold buckle of the belt gleamed, his hip leaning against the table, the pure white of his Calvin Klein slacks and Calvin Klein loafers shone out in the dark, seeming to radiate passive passion and to illuminate the premises with just their mere presence.

He was topless, of course. One hand held the pool cue, the other a glass of champagne, He wasn't looking at the camera, instead, his face was turned towards the back where a trio of beauties were watching him with just a veneer of disinterest to cover their restrained lust.

Sanji was in his element. His torso, slicked with oil, was on show, his legs causally crossed. The small audience was murmuring amongst themselves and Sanji knew without looking that they were nodding in approval of the set and the outfit, running their eyes over his body and approving of his physique.

He strutted and posed, smiled and drooped his eyes according to directions, feeling utterly satisfied with everything and anything, feeling like he the crème de la crème, knowing he was.

When Usopp stopped him halfway through the second set and handed him a sealed note with the President's letterhead, he was a little surprised and a little perturbed. With slight misgivings, he broke the old-fashioned wax seal and opened up the letter-

_Dearest Sanji Ceja-_

_I would like to speak with you in my office about a very important matter. Come see me as soon as you have the chance. Do NOT keep me waiting. _

_Amazon Lily President_

_Boa Hancock_

He dry-swallowed nervously as his eyes ran over the letter again and again, reading and re-reading it. Though he welcomed any chance to rendezvous with the veritable goddess who ran the company he worked for; he had never before been called up. Until now. So—what the hell? Was he in trouble? What had he done? Whenever Hancock needed to give him orders, she would simply send a representative. She didn't believe in stepping down from her level to talk with the models.

Usopp was looking at him sympathetically, "Go on, Sanji. We'll wait for you."

Sanji nodded, not bothering to change out of the tight black silk dress shirt and tight black pants with a gold Prada belt threaded in the middle, and walked out of the studio, his mind numb, rife with unanswered questions.

~0~

Ten minutes or so later Sanji found himself sitting in one of the two chairs in front of Hancock's enormous mahogany desk, curved like a crescent. The city of Manhattan was laid out around them; Hancock's wide, spacious office had huge floor-to-ceiling windows spanning ninety-nine percent of the walls. The door was in the floor—a wide, spiral staircase led into the room.

In the other chair sat Zoro Roronoa. Holy fucking shit. What the hell was that green-haired retard even doing—breathing the same air as him, seeing the same views as him, occupying the same space as him? He had been in there when Sanji had walked in, long legs stretched out before him, hands clasped loosely in his lap. He had turned around when Sanji had walked in and his eyes widened when he had seen Sanji, he had stirred and seemed ready to say something before Sanji had curtly slid his eyes passed him as if he didn't even exist and had stalked his way to the other chair, dropping himself in it as if it was a plush sofa, throwing his arm around the back and crossing his legs. In a minute, he was smoking, puffing out the smoke silently, not even deigning to look at Zoro a second time. Zoro didn't say anything and the silence was tenser and more obvious than a hardened erection.

It spun out. When the hell was Hancock going to get here? He had better things to do than smoke and feel the other's presence.

Sanji chanced a sneak peek at the other man; and was shocked and highly disturbed to see the other man doing the same thing. Zoro jerked his head away fast, a weird quirk in his face betraying the embarrassment he was no doubt feeling at being caught peeking. Sanji jerked his chin up in some strange form of acknowledgement, seconds after he remembered that he shouldn't have done even that.

There were a few moments of torturous, spine-tingling silence.

Why the hell had he been called up here? And why was Zoro here too?Did Hancock want to talk about their rivalry? Were they in trouble for the tension that always permeated the atmosphere and the tenseness of their unofficial and obvious competition? Had Hancock finally heard enough to break her patience and so had ordered them here?

_I should ask him, maybe he knows. _

Sanji coughed, "Oi."

Zoro didn't get a chance to reply, _if_ he had been even planning to reply, for just then the metallic clicks of her Versace heels were heard on the steel staircase and Hancock Boa swept in, looking both luxuriant and magnificent. Absolutely. Gorgeous. Drop-fucking-dead beautiful. She made Angelina Jolie look like a useless rag doll, thrown away in the corner.

He was off the seat before he could help it and kneeling towards her, hands extended, lips puckering as he imagined the flavor and texture of that flawless skin. Hancock swept past him, the small wrinkle in her brow only enhancing the otherwise creamy perfection.

"Ceja. Roronoa. I'm glad you're here." Hancock said tightly, her tone anything but pleased. She sunk down in her executive's chair, and tapped frosty-glossed nails on the glass cover of her mahogany desk. Hancock Boa had been the starlet of fashion in the prime of her youth. If Sanji was the Bill Gates of fasion now, Hancock Boa had been the Rockefeller of then. She had held the modeling and the fashion world in the palm of her hand, had had movie roles lobbied at her, had met presidents, had affairs with CEOs and with fashion designers. Hancock had won the Miss Universe pageant and had been named, _Most Beautiful Woman Alive_ by every single respectable publication. It cost millions for her to appear, and a fortune for her to endorse any brand.

Even now as CEO of her own fashion line production and designer she was a legend. Hancock was far from losing her looks, she was still a relatively young woman and her beauty—second to none. If there was anyone who could ruin his career and plummet him from the highest of the high to the lowest to the low and ensure that he never modeled again—not even for Hollister or American Eagle—it was this dark haired beauty who still held immense influence amongst the fashionistas.

"I have called you up here to discuss a very important decision about the course your careers are about to take," Hancock suddenly barked out and Sanji nearly jumped. She looked at them significantly, "Desperate times require desperate measures gentlemen."

She glanced at Zoro and narrowed her eyes, "You were in Italy during your trip to Europe were you not?"

"Yes I was," Zoro answered, and Sanji, glancing at him, saw a quiet realization dawning in his green eyes and was immediately jealous.

Hancock didn't even let Zoro continue, "Well, I am sure you understand the direness of the situation." She opened a drawer and rummaging through it, pulled out a magazine and tossed it on the surface of her desk so that they could see it, "Well?"

Sanji studied the magazine—it was simply an Italian fashion magazine with an ad for Dolce and Gabbana on the cover. The two male models were absolutely gorgeous, enough to have him swallow a lump in his throat and unbutton the top buttons of his silk dress shirt, but it was simply an ad. The headline was in Italian so he couldn't read it. He looked back up at Hancock, questioning. Next to him, Zoro stirred again but didn't say anything.

Hancock was having none of his silence, "Well Roronoa?"

"That's—" Zoro coughed, "Those are Dolce models, Luffione D. Scimmia and Aceini D. Potgasvaldo. They have sort of exploded on the modeling scene in the last two months. Europe's going wild over them."

"And what does it say?"

"_La stelle nascenti della moda—_the rising stars of fashion."

"Exactly," Hancock grated, her blue eyes snapping fire, "And tell me Roronoa, did they work together?"

Zoro stirred again, "No they did not Ms. Hancock."

Hancock pulled out another magazine, this one with a French name. It showed the same two beyond handsome men, wearing Prada suits and sunglasses, she glared at Zoro, "Well?"

"Those are the same models Ms. Hancock—Luffione D. Scimmia and Ace D. Portgasvaldo."

"And what does _this one_ say?" Hancock demanded, tapping the glossy cover with her frosty painted nail.

Zoro scratched the back of his head, "I can't read French—"

"It says _'Dieux de la couture vogue'—_Gods of vogue couture_," _Sanji interjected and Hancock nodded and threw the magazine down with the other one.

"And do you know who has earned more commissions, requests, contracts than both of you combined?" Hancock asked, arching an eyebrow, and said scathingly, "These models." She paused dramatically, "I will _not_ allow this to proceed. I simply cannot tolerate other models usurping _my_ male models. Alone, they still fell short of both your status—but now—"

Sanji swallowed, his throat almost forgetting how to. He did not like where this was headed. Did not like it at all. He was getting weird sensations in his stomach, his balls were crawling up to his belly, and the short hairs at his nape were curling. Jesus Christ. He was thinking horrible things.

Hancock measured them, "I am well aware of your animosity towards each other and up to now I have now have not minded it…but now, it seems your careers will be twisted together for an indeterminate amount of time."

Immediate protest from both of them.

He, polite, "Ms. Hancock, I hardly believe—"

Zoro, a blunt boor, "I don't think that's a good—"

Hancock slammed a fist down on her desk, "You two shall _work together_ if you don't want me to completely ruin your lives and make sure you neither model again nor hold a respectable job again, do _you damn well hear me_?" Her nostrils flared and her eyebrows rushed together in anger.

_No, I can't friggin' do this! I can't work with _him. _I can't! I can't_. I can't believe this—

"_Do you understand me!" _

"Ye-Yes."

"Good," Hancock purred, "I put Usopp in charge of both of since he's the best photographer we have. Now—go and make this company brand, shove these upstart, new, inexperience models back to the levels they belong in." She contemptuously ripped the covers of the magazines, crumpled them up, and tossed them on the floor. "I expect to see the designers come panting and begging for us within a few days gentlemen."

~0~

They walked silently together to Usopp's studio. Men walking to their execution. Sanji hadn't even glanced at the other man, too absorbed and shocked in his own fate to even contemplate the other. He had been unceremoniously tied to Zoro Roronoa for the next how many months? How long would they shoved into each other's faces? It was no secret that they loathed each other—that they loathed the air the other breathed, the ground the other walked, _everything. _Shit, how long would they last until they exploded?

_Oh. My. God. This is going to be pure torture. I cann_ot_ work with Zoro. Simply cannot. But if I don't—I can kiss my life goodbye. Hancock will crush me. Like a bug. She's damn serious when she says she can fuck me over. But—Zoro…! _

He glanced over, Zoro's face was unreadable.

_I am going to be working with him. Working with him! I need to be calm about it, professional. Freaking will get me nowhere. I need to be the one to take initiative. I need to make this endurable for both of us. _

He stopped abruptly. Zoro, surprised, stopped too and looked at him.

"Zoro."

"Ceja."

Sanji's mouth turned down at the corner as Zoro immediately set out to one-up him. He had called him by his first name, but Zoro hadn't deigned to. It reminded him of why he despised the other man. So utterly competitive, rough, callous, with no regards to decency. A pure, unsullied bastard. A shit of the finest quality. A dick of mammoth proportions. A prick with no redeeming qualities. A _fuck_.

But still, being the gentleman he was, he struggled to retain his stand and position, "We are going to be working together _Roronoa_. And we well know that we can't stand each other—"

"Who says that?" Zoro interrupted, shrugging, "I don't really think much of you to dislike you or like you. I think you thought up this entire fantasized rivalry in your own head."

"Look, _you,_" Sanji snapped, getting more and more irritated by the second, "I can't stand you. I don't care what you think or not think about me. _I can't stand you._ Let's put that up shall we? But we are working together so I will _tolerate_ you for now. If you don't give me problems, I won't give you problems, are we—_hey, you! Don't walk away while I'm talking to you!" _

"I get your message, why should I listen to any more of it?" Zoro asked coolly, striding through the hallways, "You can't stand me. You're high and mighty enough to put up with me. You're the best thing since Brad Pitt and I'm the asshole here, isn't that what you were trying to say with fluffy words?"

"If you put it in that disgusting way, yes," he said, catching up and passing Zoro, "But this is exactly why I can't stand you."

"Well, forgive me if I intimidate you," Zoro snarled behind him and rushing forward, passed him again.

Sanji felt a quirk in his eyebrow, "Oh, _Roronoa_, you do _not_ intimidate me, you _piss me the fuck off._" And with that, he used his long legs to pass Zoro, who was fairly jogging now.

"For a guy I never paid attention to before today, you're certainly getting under my skin. You're still not much to piss me off however," Zoro snapped, and now they were veritably sprinting through the offices of Amazon Lily, running like demons with their asses on fire towards Usopp's studio.

"For a guy who's wearing True Religion jeans with an Armani dress shirt, I don't see how you're even in this business. You look like a confused cowboy."

"Look at you, what's with that stupid get-up? You look like you belong at a stripper's funeral. You're going to make me look bad."

They burst into Usopp's studio, their faces an inch apart, their lips peeled back in identical snarls and their eyes narrowed in barely suppressed rage.

Usopp sighed, and muttered to Nami, beside him, "This is going to cost me ten years off my life."

~0~

Sanji could have died. Minutes before he had been glaring and sneering into the idiot's face, seeing an equal expression on Zoro's face. And life hated him so much that an hour later he was lying on his back, wearing only Louis Vuitton slacks and a Prada belt and his arm was around Zoro's neck, his hips lost between Zoro's thighs. He was looking turned on, staring helplessly at the camera's lenses, sweat just barely visible on his brow. Zoro, fully suited in Vuitton, was looking down at him. Sanji could hear his even, steady breathing; could feel the heat between his legs pressing into his thigh. All so that Louis Vuitton could sell some suits.

What had he done to deserve this? Maybe he should go home and get right with God.

And how the hell was this going to sell suits? Would men be urged to buy suits because they'd seen an ad of men getting it on? He had asked—_demanded_—that Usopp explain this to him, and the afroed man had jabbered on and on about avante-garde and modernistic and how it was _in_ _vogue _ to be sexual, regardless of gender.

And then he had wanted to know why the hell _he_ had to be the one who looked like he was being taken on a marble counter. Usopp had said it was because he was better known and it would let buyers see him in a different light-blah-blah-blah-_Shit. _

"You don't have to be aroused, you damn—_Roronoa_," he breathed angrily, turning his head so that he could glare eye to eye with the idiot. There was a break as Franky adjusted lights and Usopp ordered vases to be placed in the foreground for some strange reason.

"You're hard too, Ceja," Zoro snapped, "We've been rubbing up against each other for the last hour, of fucking course I'm _hard._" His face was flushed and the first signs of true discomfort were showing themselves in usually impassive face, "It's what _they've—" _Zoro jerked his head towards the photographers and make-up artists, "—aimed at us to be."

"_Sanji! Zoro! Back to your positions!" _Usopp snapped from his place. They immediately compiled—the faster this was done, the better.

"I feel utterly _filthy_," Sanji seethed through clenched teeth. "I'm going to bathe as soon as I get home."

"Damn you," Zoro snarled quietly, "You're a utter _bitch._ I didn't think you were this irritating. Enjoy me while you can because this is the closest you're _ever _getting—"

"_Zoro! _Wipe that hate off your face and Sanji wipe that disgust off of yours! This looks like a rape scene!" Usopp screeched, "You're supposed to be looking passionate and Sanji—gorgeously swept off your feet! Do I have to demonstrate it for you two lunkheads!"

Sanji swallowed angrily, but with supreme effort managed to adopt the said expression. Zoro must have managed his because Usopp clapped and continued his shoot.

He had been fine with the first photos—which had just been him and Zoro standing around in various pieces, in different settings. But they had become progressively more suggestive. They had been back to back, then with arms around each other, then hugging each other with a woman model between them, then this—lying on each other.

"All right! We're good! That's it for today!"

By the second word, Zoro had scrambled off him, and leapt off the stage, shrugging out of the suit angrily and exchanging it for clothes that his assistant held up. Sanji was no less pissed. He held out his hands and immediately was provided with cigarettes and lighter. And then he was off—ignoring his secretary's questions as to whether he was planning to shoot anything more today.

He shook his head curtly and stalked out, not bothering to relinquish his slacks—which actually belonged to the company—and not bothering to clothe himself more. He deserved the rest of the day off.

~0~

"I can't _stand_ that bastard!" Sanji hissed, slamming a hand down on his knee hard enough to hurt, "he makes me see _red." _

Paulie coaxed him into his lap, "That bad? You never seem to get fazed much by another model, even if you don't like them." The blond mechanic had not been present at the shooting—he had been busy fixing the air conditioning in another wing. Sanji had asked him to come over and had immediately unburdened his woes on the other man.

"You don't understand baby, this guy makes up for his _lack of_ by being a total dick," he muttered, burrowing his face in Paulie's neck, "And we were shoved up in each other's bodies for half the damn _time._ I mean, I _felt_ his jewels. Suckiest day of my life, man. No questions."

Paulie grunted laughter, "Hey—shut up. My jealousy bone is starting to act up. I know you don't like this guy, but you'll have to work with him for a while it seems. Just don't sink to his level, don't play his little games. Be who you are—professional, elegant. He's not worth your anger. And anyway, you'd probably fuck him over if you actually got pissed with him." Paulie was one of the few people who knew his expertise in Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Savate, Kickboxing, and Brazilian capoeria.

"I know," Sanji groaned into the sun-burned neck which smelled vaguely of Axe cologne. Sanji had given him all sorts of brand name colognes and clothes, but Paulie had stubbornly stuck to his old Walmart brands and Kohls's shirts. Sanji, secretly, had been relieved. "But I'm going to lose it if we keep on having to rub our dicks all over each other's bodies…" He threw his arms around the mechanic's neck and shifted his thighs so that his knees hit the back of the sofa and he was completely on Pauile. Sanji smiled, snuggling into the warm, willing body underneath him. So utterly different from the cold, tight arrogance of Zoro Roronoa.

"Well," Paulie said, "Let me check to see if it did anything to your manhood." Warm, experienced hands nudged the elastic of his sweatpants down and Sanji only need cooperate with his hips so that the soft, cheap material uncovered his ass and settled just underneath his knees. He groaned softly against Paule's neck.

Paulie chuckled, "You're fine Sanji. You're a freaking drama queen sometimes."

He sighed against the neck and bit his lower lip hard.

The soothing, roughened voice continued, "All you have to do is deal with the situation. So what he hates you? So what you hate him? I can't stand some of the mechanics on the set—but I have to work with them."

Sanji rocked his hips, silently pleading for faster friction; half-listening to Paulie's words. His breathing was a little harder, but not much, not wanting to disrupt Paulie's lecture.

"As I said before—if you hate him and show it, all its going to do is encourage him to keep on trying to get under your skin. Be above that."

He let out a little tortured whimper that he would have died rather than let Zoro—or anyone—hear and rocked his hips unashamedly, literally begging. To tempt Paulie, he ran his lips and tongue over the mechanic's neck. Paulie let out a groan and he matched it when the pressure tightened on his swollen length.

He drew back and looked in Paulie's eyes, "I don't know about you, but I'm through with talking about that idiot."

Paulie grinned, "I'm through with _talking."_ A small, delightful squeeze at the base of his dick emphasized the words.

"Take off your shirt, I'm going to come on your stomach," he grunted, placing his hands on Paulie's shoulders. "Hurry up—_I'm_—I'm not going to…last…" _And I don't plan to. _He arched his back in desperation at the strokes which were fast and slightly hurt and made the room spin with the pleasure.

"Well—move your hands—"

He clamped his lips on Paulie's mouth the moment Paulie was bare-chested, his carved muscles on show, but then he couldn't even kiss any more as he felt orgasm ripping him open, he settled with thrusting his pelvis frenetically, covering Paulie's face with sloppy, unrestrained mouthings which vaguely resembled kisses.

Panting, panting hard when he felt himself go, felt his semen spurting out and throbbing his cock.

"Where-Where are you going?" he asked, a little dazed as Paulie left him sprawled on the couch.

"Clean up, and get some lotion. You better be ready when I get back," and Paulie padded off, wiping his stomach and chest clean of Sanji's ejaculation, smiling in that roughly cheerful way Sanji secretly adored.

He wasn't ready when Paulie got back—though the mechanic took his time to find the lotion—but it didn't take that long for Paulie to coax him back to a proud and turgid erection. But this time things were different. Paulie never fooled around with sex, never did anything too kinky or exotic. And penetration was merely entrance followed by waves of sensation. It was the sincerity and minimalism with which Paulie performed that Sanji had become enamored of.

He groaned out loud and hunched his shoulders against the timeless assault on his body. He never was one to lie back and take it, simply because he had always been more comfortable in the position of the aggressor, but with Paulie, he let himself go, let himself be loved.

The blond mechanic had long gotten experienced in the topography of his body and there was no shy qualms as there had been the first times. His sex was unembarrassed, unashamed. And he smoked while they fucked. Big fat Cuban cigar at the corner of his lip made Sanji want to snatch it out of his mouth and replace it with something significantly thicker and hotter. Pauile probably thought the same thing of the smooth, white barrel in his own mouth.

"You—good?" Paulie grunted, placing a reassuring hand on the top of his ass.

"Go, dude," he spat, taking the cigarette out for a second so he could breathe deeply, "Damn—"

He groaned and choked back a cry as Paulie began to slap his prostate hard, his backside began to hump up towards his torso in time to the thrusts; he had to keep back more and more sighing groans, determined as he was not to be theatrical nor dramatic.

"Shit—you've gotten used to this haven't you—" he grunted, closing his eyes hard, his tongue running out to lather unconsciously at his lower lip.

Paulie hauled him up by the hips and grinded him against the arm of the sofa which he had been so humbly bent over, and finally elicited from him the breathy scream which had been lurking in his chest. His hands flew out to brace himself on the leather furniture.

"Shi—"

"Used to what? Fucking you? You can say I have," Paulie grunted, his words cut off by the heavy pants and Sanji's sharp intakes of breathes with each fast pump of his erect penis.

"Stop—the sofa's leather—I'm going to—" his hand snapped to Paulie's on his cock as if he meant to stop the caresses somehow, "Paulie—"

"Let yourself go," the larger, rougher hand refused to stop, and the thrusts of the other man's hips filled him deep each time. "You came on me, is the damn sofa better?"

"Paulie, please, the leather…!"

No answer. The only answer was the pants on his neck, the overwhelming scent of tobacco.

_Oh, yes, yes, yes! _

Paulie cupped his hand around the spurting head, effectively catching his orgasm, the semen dripping only slightly as it leaked guiltily around the cracks of the tightly clenched hand.

"Where—what?"

Paulie laughed as he settled him in his arms, "I'm carrying you to the bathtub, you deserve it."

He sighed in contentment, "Damn…I fucking don't deserve you."

"You got that right."

~0~

"All right baby? Promise me you won't get pissed off and fly off the handle."

"Yeah, yeah—get out of here," he said, turning his head away and shifting his eyes past the blond mechanic.

Paulie jerked his head back and Sanji's eyes spat fire for a second. Paulie ignored it, "Pay attention to me Sanji, I'm only doing this for you. Don't let yourself get played with. You're only going to end up being embarrassed."

"Okay, _okay_ baby," he sighed and let Paulie shake him lightly, "Okay. I get it. I really do. But I have to go now, Usopp's waiting for me."

"You're not going to get unnecessarily angered for some nobody?" Paulie measured him with his blue eyes, around four shades darker than Sanji's own.

"I'll be fine, Paulie," he nodded and let out a small breath, "I can control myself. I'm at least capable of that."

After Paulie had left, he shook his head slightly to clear it and walked to where Usopp was already setting up more sets and looking over notes and other magazine covers.

"Man, Sanji, we're really going have to step up the level if we're aiming to beat these new models," Usopp said, tying his bushy hair back with a bandana, "I was looking at the ads they've appeared on so far and at the parties they've been spotted at. They're everywhere. Italy _loves_ them."

"Yeah, well me and the _other_ are going to change all that," he said a trifle waspishly, "I don't care if I—" he cut himself off because he had been right about to say _if I had to pose naked_ but then had realized that he _did_ mind, instead he finished, "—have to draw blood. What do you have planned today, great photographer of mine?"

"Eh, lemme see," Usopp picked up a clipboard and rifled through it, "Today we're showcasing some of the winter fashions for the new year, some of Amazon Lily brand actually. I don't want our label to disappear—"

"Get to the point Usopp. I want to know what humiliations and annoyances I have to put up with."

"Well," the photographer said, looking nervous, "Remember that I don't make these _positions_—"

"Bullshit. You're the _creative genius,_" he snorted, "And I'm not going to rip you apart, I just don't want to be grossly surprised." He was going to attempt to follow Paulie's words of advice. No anger, no fury, no nothing—_Roronoa_ wasn't worth his attention. He would do this and he would do it right and he would get it over with quickly.

The photographer was looking relived, "Okay, well I have a couple ideas. Some of them are just you two standing around and—" Usopp went on enthusiastically while Sanji nodded doubtfully.

Zoro Roronoa arrived twenty minutes later, wearing a Guess leather jacket and Armani slacks, if Sanji's eye was right. The green-haired man looked around for a second, seeming to gather his bearings, and then striding towards Usopp—Sanji was by then chatting quietly with Nami on one of the relaxation sofas.

Nami twirled a strand of his hair around her finger, "How are you liking working with the number two top model of Amazon Lily, Sanji-dear?"

He laughed shortly, eyes trained on the shape of Zoro's broad shoulders, "Let's just say that I've seen better days, my princess."

The orangehaired secretary raised one shapely red brow in a gorgeous display of disbelief, "Oh? Is that all you have to say? I've never known you to be so restrained! I'm surprised, by this time you'd be cussing him out."

"I know," Sanjij groaned, running his hands through his blond hair, "But I promised Paulie that I wouldn't let myself get pissed off at that retard."

"That's so adorable," Nami smiled, "_You two_ are so adorable. I'm glad you two found each other, he's such a good influence on you. You've calmed down quite a bit since he started banging you."

He flushed, "Well, not as good as if _you and me_ were going out, my beautiful duchess."

Usopp glanced at him and called him over, "Sanji!"

He got up with an inward groan, "Well, off to my martyrdom Nami darling. All for the beautiful Hancock Boa." When he got to Usopp, Zoro was studiously looking the other way and Sanji didn't bother to rise to the bait. Instead he fixed Usopp with his blue gaze.

"All right guys," the photographer said, rummaging through his sets, "I'm going to put up an autumn fall background, all right? We're going to model Amazon fall coats for men as well as scarves and sunglasses. Just stand next to each other, yeah? Looking into the sunset—"

They handed him the coats and the outfit accessories; Sanji accepted them graciously and slipped into them. The shoot wasn't that bad, he silently assumed his position next to Zoro, striking his pose without a second thought.

"All right, now Zoro, sling your arm around Sanji—two jocks, the dreamboats of society out on a fall walk."

Sanji stiffened momentarily as Zoro slid an arm around his shoulders and leaned in closer, but with difficulty shook the tension from his body and managed to resume his suave casualness.

"Zoro! Get that tension out of your body!"

He bit back a poisonous word when Zoro muttered a curse under his breath and edged closer to him.

"All right! Good! Now, you're laughing together! Heads a bit down, happy men!" Usopp barked, jumping around, gesturing wildly.

"Are you shitting me?" he muttered and tried to fit an awkward smile on his lips.

"Come on! Look at each other idiots!"

Feeling like his neck was in the final stages of tetanus, Sanji turned his head to look into Zoro's eyes and chuckled with difficulty. Zoro was in the same position, his eyes were snapping and his eyebrow muscles were twitching and the smile on his mouth was as real as a three-dollar bill.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha," Sanji grated, feeling as if lips were chapping with each unwanted stretch of mouth muscles.

"You're awfully cooperative today, Ceja. What's with the attitude change? Stick finally fell out of your ass?"

"_Zoro! You're supposed to be laughing!" _

"Shut the hell up," he snapped, keeping the demented smile on his face, "I said I wasn't going to mind your shit today and I'm going to keep my word, goddamn."

"_Sanji! You look like the Joker! Smile more naturally!"  
_

The greenhaired man's eyes narrowed, "Who the hell did you promise _that_ too?"

"_Zoro! Wipe that hate off your face, you look like you're going to kill him!" _

He closed his eyes and took a few shallow, reassuring breathes. And then, opening his eyes, "Let's not prolong this, shall we?"And he smiled winningly, fixing his eyes on a spot just over Zoro's shoulder.

"_Perfect Sanji! Just look in Zoro's eyes ! Zoro—" _

With an effort he dragged his eyes back to Zoro's green ones and kept the smile. Zoro's arm around his squeezed him hard and brought him closer, "Why the hell did you make that kind of promise? To who?" His grin shone out, at Usopp's urging, but his eyes were pissed.

"Shut up," he grated out, voice feeling like sandpaper, "That is none of your damn business."

"_Look happier, you asses!" _

They shut up finally and grinned happily at each other.

Nami smiled from where she was helping Usopp take the shoots, "There's so much _passion_ radiating off of them, maybe it's for the better that they hate each other's guts."

Usopp grunted, "Maybe, but I'm wasting a lot of time and money for every second I have to prod them into getting the shoot right. Goddamn them, they were probably mortal enemies in their past lives."

~0~

_**A/N: Sorry for not posting sooner! But now that you feasted yourselves on the meal of my mind, please leave me a tip, no? And Luffy and Ace's names are Italianized—crudely so. And I doubt these fashion ads that the duo are paring for would be allowed in magazines. Deal. I wanted them to be up in each other's junk. And for the record—I am a fashion whore. **_


	4. The Mechanic Wears Caterpillar

**Note: **There is one name I want you remember—_**FuxeFuxe,**_ who drew some wonderful fanart for this story! She brought to life the magazine cover that Boa Hanock looks at in Chapter 3 with Luffy and Ace in Dolce and Gabbana! Much love! This is for you!

_**Chapter Four  
**_The Mechanic Wears Caterpillar

Please, leave all overcoats, canes and top hats with the doorman  
From that moment you'll be out of place and underdressed  
I'm wrecking this evening already and loving every minute of it  
Ruining this banquet for the mildly inspiring and  
When you're in black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes  
Whoa, everything goes according to plan  
I'm the new cancer, never looked better, you can't stand it  
Because you say so under your breath  
You're reading lips "When did he get all confident?"  
Haven't you heard that I'm the new cancer?  
Never looked better, and you can't stand it  
Next is a trip to the, the ladies room in vain, and  
I bet you just can't keep up with, keep up, with these fashionistas, and  
Tonight, tonight you are, you are a whispering campaign  
I bet to them your name is "Cheap", I bet to them you look like shh-  
Talk to the mirror, oh, choke back tears  
And keep telling yourself that "I'm a diva!"  
Oh and the smokes in that cigarette box on the table  
they just so happen to be laced with nitroglycerin  
-_"There's a Good Reason These Tables are Numbered Honey, you just haven't Thought of it Yet"  
-__Panic at the Disco_

~0~

Again. Again the same, always the same. The same madness. The same fury, the same impotent rage. What had he ever done to be in such a traumatizing position? How bad had he been in his other lives? He must have been downright evil in his previous life.

"You're trembling."

The voice wafted on the air, goading.

His eyes narrowed in rage and then opened up again lest Usopp should shrill at him to look sexy. He didn't answer—to do so would have been tantamount to losing his temper. His hand was fisted fiercely; the secret crevices sweating with the tension, the muscles standing out in his forearms as his body refused to cooperate with him and ached to shake the man in front of him until the other's teeth clattered and shook.

He swallowed and struggled to keep that dark mystery that he was supposed to be permeating. Zoro's hand on top of his, he felt the beat of the other's heart. It was too fast, why was it so fast? Thankfully, Usopp had dictated that he was supposed to be looking at the wall behind Zoro while Zoro gazed at him so Sanji didn't have to put up with the weight of those green eyes.

The set—according to the photographer—was called, '_Brooding Stranger Tells Mysterious Man of his Love.' _It could have been called _'Baboon's Anus meets Blond Beauty" _for all he cared. The agony was the same.

Zoro squeezed the hand that was in both of his, clasped between his pectorals, "Ceja—you're trembling like a leaf."

"That," he managed finally, with difficulty, "is because I do not want to be here." It was the politest he could manage at the moment.

"_Perfect Sanji, Zoro! Keep that!" _

"That makes two of us then Ceja," Zoro whispered, his lips barely moving from what Sanji could see from the corner of his eye.

He didn't answer, his eyes long accustomed to the flashes and pops of the expensive cameras and light systems.

Zoro squeezed his hand softly.

"Stop," he snapped, trying his hardest not to move his lips too much. Would someone shoot this man?

Zoro ran the ball of his thumb over the side of his hand not facing the camera, his face unreadable. _Caressed it. _

"_Stop—what the hell are you doing?" _he snarled quietly. Usopp was not fooled and Sanji found himself reprimanded for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. His knuckles were white with repression.

Zoro squeezed his hand again, hard, and said silkily, "I'm pissing you off."

~0~

"You damn _fools,_" Hancock hissed, "Not only did you beat the shit out of each other, you broke expensive photography equipment, you nearly suffocated the best photographer this company has when he tried to stop your rampages, you tore holes in the walls, you _broke the doors down_—_what the hell do you two buffoons have to say for yourselves!" _

"Ms. Hancock, please forgive me," he protested automatically, emotions conflicting. On one hand he felt utterly couth for being the cause of the wrinkle in Hancock's smooth, milky forehead. On the other hand he was smarting, wanting to throw Zoro under the wheels of the oncoming truck, "But this _man_ was harassing me—"

"I don't care if he was _sexually molesting_ you!" Hancock snarled, slamming her hand down on the desk, "I don't care if he was doing this or doing that, _I do not care!_ I don 't care what you two have to do in order to get along, but the next time I hear that you're fighting in the photo shoot then I will have your asses out on the street so fast that your heads are going to be whirling! And don't think it'll stop there!"

The CEO glared at them ominously.

"I swear on my own name that if you screw this up for me, if you don't manage to catapult _my_ company, _my_ label, _my_ name higher than any other company then I will ruin your whole damn lives _if it's the last thing I do. _Are we clear gentleman?_"_

Sanji nodded, and beside him he could see Zoro doing the same, sullenly.

_Boor. Idiotic boor. Nasty, toilet-trained, disgusting, idiotic boor. _

"Then get out my office and go back. I expect both of you to put in four more hours of work to make up for the damage you caused to my studios. Now—get lost."

He stood up, his chair scraping sadly against the carpet, and stalked out after bowing deeply to the beautiful executive. Zoro simply strolled out, head down and hands in Calvin Klein slacks. A deep midnight blue. This time the walk to Usopp's studio, which they had fairly destroyed as they had done their very best to rip each other's heads off and carry each other's skulls home to eat soup out of, was tense and silent. Sanji stayed behind the other man, too disgusted and weary to even begin another arms-race.

What he hated most, though, was the fact that things would have gone smooth—or at least not so drastically violent—if _Zoro_ would have taken the idea into his head to behave himself. But no—the man was keen on annoying the very shit out of him. It was—

"Hey, Ceja."

He grunted, immediately on guard, eyes locked on the back of the green head.

"Maybe I shouldn't haven't played around with you—I'll try not to do it again," Zoro stopped and turned his head halfway back, smiling, hands in the back pockets.

"_Try?_ You better damn well not do it again," he said, pissed, "Look, I don't see what your problem is. I'm trying to get things done, but _you—" _

"I am an uneducated, uncultured, boring, Neolithic armpit," Zoro continued smoothly, starting to walk again.

"Yes, I'm glad we agree. But that doesn't change the fact that we _are working together_. It's obvious we can't get along—so why don't we just get it over with?"

"There's a problem with that Ceja," Zoro said, not turning around, "The problem _is_ that I can't get over it if every time I'm around you, you make it very fucking clear that you'd rather be humping a dead cow or eating fresh bird shit. It sort of pisses me off, you know?"

He breathed hard, stifling the harsh words which wanted to crawl themselves up from his larynx and hurl themselves viciously at the green haired model, "Well, _I, _Roronoa, can't change the way we conflict, because that's a question of our very natures—"

"Really…? I always thought that opposites attract."

"This is precisely why I can't put up with you!" he snapped, "I try to be serious—you fuck things up! How the hell are we going to work for the next eight-ten months without fighting every single damn day!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, wanting nothing more than to plunge a black loafer through that broad back in front of him.

Zoro turned around abruptly and glared at him, "Well, it's the exact same reason why _you_ piss me off! You want us to work together, I say 'ok', you say 'cooperate' and I say, 'ok', but _you_ act like your shit doesn't stick and smells like Chanel No.5, hypocrite! Don't get yourself mixed up—it's the other way around—I'm putting up with you, and let me tell you—it's getting harder and harder every time you open your trap."

_Calm down Sanji, calm down. You don't want to spoil the gorgeous Ms. Hancock's day again do you? _

_But I want to kick this guy's face in! _

_No, you don't! Think of Hancock! _

He brushed past Zoro, "I just want this shit to be _over_ with. I don't care how we do it."

~0~

Hand on his hip, hair clinging to his eyes, open suit and dress shirt, yeah baby. This was what he had been used to. His other hand played with a thick, fancy cigar. He had been used to this, the camera's dark eye upon him, the audience smiling and approving.

What he was not used to was the arms crossed below the neck, the chin reclining on his shoulder, causing a point of numbness, the lean, muscular body behind him, the steady breathing in his ear which agonizingly reminded him of Paulie breathing in his ear as the blond mechanic thrust how it was best and stroked in ways which melted his lower belly.

"Beautiful, just beautiful!" Usopp crowed happily, "I bet this ad really brings out the urge in people to buy Amazon Lily brand! I mean, the mystery—the restrained sexuality—the need emanating from both of your bodies—"

_Need to kill. _

"Can you feel my _need_ Sanji?" Zoro murmured, beside him, his voice tampered with satirical glee.

"_Shut it!_" he whispered fiercely, "I don't want to redo this. We've been standing here for ten-fifteen minutes! This is almost done—"

"Zoro! Put your hand on Sanji's crotch!" Usopp tapped something on his clipboard and nodded solemnly.

"_What! I'm going to shove your nose so far up your ass Usopp, you're going to be able to smell your own shit—what do you think you're doing!" _

"I'm following orders," Zoro said, voice bland and mild, "I'm a humble employee."

"Sanji! I'm not actually going to put that on a magazine!" Usopp attempted an authoritarian tone, but was in actuality, trembling a little bit, "I'm going to cut it off at the wrist—it's supposed to be suggestive—women love that kind of advertising! Trust me! Fangirls these days—"

"Hey, hey, what's this?" Zoro said, smirking, "I thought it was _me_ who got in the way of things, eh—Sanji Ceja? Feeling a little uncomfortable? What's the matter? I'm sure you've felt a man's hand here before." Squeeze.

"Don't—Don't _put so much pressure!" _He was nearly purple with suppressed rage.

Usopp gave them a thumbs up, "_Perfect Zoro! I can see your muscles—nice! You've got a good feel for this!"_

"I have a good feel right now all right," Zoro murmured, and then before Sanji could choke out something acidic, "Wait, _Usopp—I'm going to curl my hand to add to the suggestion, wait up—_"

And that is how Sanji found himself, smoking a cigar, one eye closed, the other measuring the camera, and Zoro's hand curved tightly around the lax column underneath his slacks. His head was tilted to one side and Zoro's warm lips were hovering over the junction of shoulder and neck.

And that's exactly when Paulie walked in, dragging a black bandana across his sweaty forehead, his blue jacket swung over one broad shoulder. Holding a soft drink in one hand, goggles pulling his blond hair back.

Sanji felt something like an electric shock cascade through his body and he flushed, and turned white almost immediately. He saw Paulie's eyes widen and his jaw drop open slightly and something nasty squirmed inside. He felt like a cheating, adulterous bastard at that moment and nothing, not even the truth, could rip that feeling away from his heart. He wanted to leap off the stage and run to his man but he knew just how much it would cost Usopp to readjust the cameras all over again. Plus, he didn't think he could move at the moment. His muscles had frozen.

Thankfully Nami made a beeline for Paulie, and Sanji saw her mouth moving sixty miles an hour, and Paulie nodded jerkily, relaxing minutely.

_Oh please, don't be angry—don't be hurt. Paulie—_

"The boyfriend?" Zoro murmured in his ear, leaning his mouth over so that the lips tickled the shell of his ears and he could hear every shade of timbre of the other's baritone. But for once, Sanji didn't recoil-didn't even register him. Zoro could have been on the dark side of the moon for all he cared.

"He's going to kill me," Sanji muttered back, "I told him about this but he _won't understand. _He doesn't get this model shit. I don't blame him—damn—_"_ The flash of the cameras broke his sentence in half.

"All right guys! We're good!" Usopp gave them the go-ahead signal, "Take a breather!"

Zoro's hands dropped away from him and Sanji didn't feel them go, he was already leaping off the platform, heading for Nami and Paulie. Snatching off the suit jacket and tossing it to one of the many aides as he ran.

The greenhaired model rubbed the back of his neck and muttered, "What's so great about that guy? He's not so hot."

~0~

"Paulie—"

The blond held up a hand, and attempted a smile, "Don't explain. You're a model—I get it. You have to do this stuff. I get it."

Sanji felt the rush of relief but gabbled on, seizing Paulie's hands, "Baby—I would never cheat on you. Usopp—he has these ideas—"

"Sanji—_I know._ Don't worry about it. Nami explained it all." Paulie glanced away.

Nami nodded in agreement. "He understands, it's your work, baby."

He flushed again, still feeling embarrassed to be seen in the situation that Paulie had caught him in. And even though Paulie said it was all okay, he could see the hurt in the engineer's blue eyes, the slight pain. The shame.

One glance at the clock told him he had time and with a look to Nami-who understood immediately and nodded—he grabbed Paulie's hand and tugged him out of the studio.

"Sanji—where are you taking me—" Paulie said, surprised, but allowing himself to be led.

"Shut up."

He rushed down the corridor and took a right and then another left—searching. Then—there! He seized the doorknob of one of the many doors in the building and pulled it open, slamming it behind them. And plunged on through the room—which was a sort of storage closet for cleaning supplies—until he reached another door.

Paulie stopped, "Are we going to the _basement?" _

Sanji ignored him and pulled him down the stairs, pausing only to flick on the lights. It was a clean, albeit cluttered room, which housed even more cleaning supplies.

"Why are we here—"

Sanji turned around and swallowed the words—kissed Paulie hard. The kiss was deep and good; the kind only people deeply in love or prostitutes can give. The kind of kiss which lasted in the mind. The kind of kiss which tears the heart from the chest and makes it explode in happiness even as you know that it won't last.

Paulie's tongue caressed his own, then abused it. The engineer pushed him back until his back hit the wall and Sanji broke the kiss.

Paulie spoke first, voice rough. Almost embarrassed, "You didn't have to bring me down here to do that."

"Oh, I'm planning to do a lot more," he answered, his hands ran down the toned body, "but first—you know I want nothing to do with Zoro. You _know_ that I wouldn't leave you or cheat on you for the world. _You know." _

The engineer winced, "I know."

"Then why did you look so fucking _hurt?_"

"Because—Because—" Paulie looked away, "Sanji—you're not my level. You're above me and you know it."

"_Shit," _he breathed and jerked the blond's head back.

Paulie plowed on, "You're this amazing, handsome, rich, sophisticated fashion model and I'm this guy who works on the machines in the back. I shouldn't have been stupid enough to have feelings for you."

"Cut the crap," he hissed, "Just _cut it._ You know I'm in love with you and you know I don't give a shit about that—I used to be a fucking janitor when I worked at the Baratie!"

"Yeah, but you were the sous-chef too. Hey—"

Sanji slid the jacket off of him and tugged the shirt up over his head. Paulie let the yellow shirt be peeled over his head and dropped to the floor. And Sanji sunk down after it, pausing only to kiss the hard muscles, draw a sticky line of sweet across the naval and nibble on the material of the jeans.

"Unzip," he whispered

"Sanji—here?" Paulie's face darkened to scarlet and his hands trembled at the zipper of his jeans. He was shy by nature, and even though they had been screwing each other for the last months, and would be screwing each other for the next God-knew-how-many years, the mechanic would always be that prim, bashful man who blushed and groaned like a fresh, dewy virgin.

"I'm not _above _you retard—and I'll suck your dick on my knees in some basement to prove it. _Unzip_."

Paulie did and when Sanji made no move, flushed again, and guided the increasing erection into the open mouth. The only thing Sanji did was to pull the jeans down a little more and then after that was done—suck. Paulie's cock was a rather thick piece—though he could still take it in deep and suckle it without gagging. It was a working man's cock. Thick and heated, bluntly shaped. Large and proud in its arousal.

Sanji let the erection fill his mouth, let himself run his tongue enthusiastically over the hot skin. He felt the pulsating heat in his mouth and couldn't quite understand how hot it was making him—to be so utterly degraded. Why _does_ the inner libido love, just _love_, to be humiliated? Just the act of sinking to his knees curled a hot serpent in his lower body and made his penis push against the tight satin of his Dolce & Gabbana slacks.

Why did he burn inside when he felt the mechanic's little grunts and tasted the sweet-sour taste of private skin tinged with salty droplets? Why did the blush of arousal permeating his body gorge on the sounds and scents and sights of cock being sucked so thoroughly?

Paulie was trying to bump his hips without appearing to be trying to thrust more of that erection inside his mouth. It was absurdly charming. Even with his dripping erection in his mouth, the mechanic would act shy, would act like he wasn't one turned on motherfucker. Paulie's shallow breathing was beautiful in his ears.

He pulled off after he felt, rather than heard the rhythmatic pumping of the dirty blonds' blood. He was steadying out so that he could release. Sanji stood up and rapidly unzipped his satiny slacks, peeling them off his taut thighs which were quivering with the tension. "Got something?"

The blond in front of him bent slightly and picked up his jacket and dreamily pulled out a small tube of engine oil out of the jacket's pocket.

Sanji winced, "No dude." His eyes were already glancing along the shelves and he spotted what he needed almost immediately. A big jar of some cheap, creamish color lotion had been left on one of the shelves. Maybe there were more couples in Amazon Lily who needed a quick release every now and then. He grinned and motioned for Paulie to go get it. Pulling off the rest of his designer slacks, he set quickly to clean off a portion of one of the long, cluttered work tables. Not too comfortable and not too pretty; but it would do, it would do.

~0~

When the dirty blond mechanic laid the lithe blond on the table, back-side up, Zoro winces, felt something flare in his groin and glanced self-consciously behind him, eyes wide. He hadn't meant to watch the idiot blond get on his knees and swallow his partner's dick, had he known that the two were going to get down and do the dirty, he would never have followed them.

As it was he had believed that the two were at the point of coming to blows when they left. He had just seen Sanji drag the other blond out with no explanation and next thing Zoro knew they were in the basement, swapping spit and semen. He had honestly followed in order to throw in a good word for his co-worker. He liked fucking with the easy-to-fuck-with blond who exasperated him to no end; but in no ways did he want to actually destroy a relationship. That was just pure malevolence.

He should have left the moment Sanji slid his hands underneath the mechanic's blue workingman's jacket and threw it on the floor. Then he should have left the moment that Sanji dropped to his knees and all Zoro saw was the bare broad back of the dirty blond and could see the white hand gripping the man's brown side. And then he should have left when the two men began to grind against each other and somehow Sanji managed to flip himself around on the white table—and

Zoro hadn't seen the blond give the blowjob but he got a full panoramic view on him being fucked.

Their breathing was loud. Zoro could hear it from where he crouched behind the door. It was a good thing the door had a little platform just outside it with railings before it petered out into the staircase so that the door was not so exposed. But Zoro had an idea that the two men were too currently occupied to pay much attention to a peeping tom.

And a peeping tom he certainly was. He really had no plans to leave anytime soon. One hand went to the top button on his shirt and undid it. The room had suddenly gotten very hot.

Zoro raised an eyebrow as he heard Sanji start panting out Paulie's name. The blond on the table arched his back violently, his ass raising up from the table and Paulie placed a restrictive hand on it and jerked his hips forward. They both were giving small grunts of exertion and then there would be the occasional slam as Sanji pounded on the table or their motions caused something to fall off on the other end.

Strange. He had expected it to be the rough mechanic on that table. It would have been the holier-than-thou blond who called the shots and refused to give up his masculinity. In fact, the whole conversation the two had been having had been strange. He would never have suspected that his blond co-worker had it in him to be so kind—so honest and blunt.

_I'm not above you. _

He had only caught the tail end of it, but the emotions had been sincere.

The blond on the table began to writhe under the pressure of what the mechanic was putting in his body and Zoro felt his mind go blank at the sight of that handsome body which he had been in such close proximity to these last few days. The sight was achingly pornographic. The muscles in the white back, the curves of the magnificent body which strained and relaxed, strained and relaxed, the way his ass moved in such ways so that it was blatantly obvious that the man was begging for insertion. Begging for abuse.

He could tell that a turgid erection was straining against his slacks without even looking. All he wanted to do was watch the man on the table—he didn't even spare the dirty blond mechanic a second glance—and try to imagine what it looked and felt like to be the man who was so mercilessly fucking that gorgeous motherfucker on the table.

Zoro could _feel_ the lush heat around his length, could see the white curves of the man buttocks spread wide and the red-black puckered mouth of his being. It was his own hardened cock which was making the man squirm and prostate himself on the dirty surface of that table. It was his hand which grasped the man's hard thigh, his hand which coaxed the hidden cock to spit its semen out.

They finished, there on that table. He could almost pinpoint the exact moment when Sanji's climax overwhelmed him. His long body hitched once, almost in protest, and his shoulders tensed and then relaxed and he was turning his head—

Zoro swallowed thickly before backing away as quietly as he could, and confused and pissed that he had even stayed to watch, fled the scene of the crime.

~0~

They were only a few minutes into the next shoot when Sanji realized that something was different. He had wandered out, after a few quick kisses, a few minutes before the mechanic so as to not curtail suspicion and had found that Usopp had taken his lunch break and wouldn't be back for half an hour. It had been enough time to reassert himself and collect his scattered bearings.

They were standing side-by-side next to each other; they had one of their hands tucked into each other's belt, with their chins lifted slightly and identical cigarette's tucked into opposite corners of their mouths. The belts were Givenchy; the cigarette's were Camels.

The difference was that Zoro's hand was calm, almost straining against his belt as if he didn't want any part of him to come in contact with Sanji's body. His eyes jumped away when they met and his mood was subdued, almost lost in thought. There were no attempts to annoy him, only a silent submission that had Sanji wary beyond belief.

And the attitude did not change throughout the rest of the shoot. If anything, it increased. The green-haired man would nod silently to Usopp's orders—even to the more raunchy ones—and even to Sanji's own. And the way he now was handling their intimacy—he handled Sanji's body as if were made of glass. Fragile and precious.

Confused, but not unhappy at the sudden change, Sanji followed along with the shoot, not bothering to question the other man. They were almost done when the answer hit him and he stiffened momentarily in Zoro's arms (They were hugging each other with Versace sunglasses on).

_Zoro thinks that Paulie either broke up with me or ranked me to the dogs and back for that scene back there. He's feeling guilty and doesn't know how to apologize even though it's not his fault. _

The disquiet he had been feeling ever since they had resumed the shoot and Zoro had been acting so strangely dissipated immediately and tired amusement flooded in. He relaxed again and before he could stop it—chuckled quietly (It was Zoro's face which was facing the camera, so he was free to do so). The slight movement made Zoro start and shift uneasily before Usopp yelled at him to stop.

"Something funny?" Zoro whispered.

"No—nevermind," and but something like confusion fell over his soul as his hand gave Zoro's back a pat before he stopped himself, shocked. He despised this man! Why had they suddenly molded into each other so faultlessly? He didn't know—but he didn't like it.

~0~

Paulie chuckled when Sanji told him, "Well—at least it seems he's a decent guy." He was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, a fat cigar in his mouth. Waiting for dinner. Sanji didn't disappoint him and handed him a plate of steaming barbeque ribs a few seconds later, placing his plate opposite. Before he sat down he hunkered and grabbed Paulie's foot.

"What are you doing?"

Sanji grunted, "Taking off your boots. These things are huge clodhoppers, the steel toes makes 'em weigh a lot. Here. " He unlaced the boots and pulled them off the mechanic's feet, "What are these? Caterpillar?"

"Yeah."

He washed his hands, sat down to eat, and returned to Paulie's comment, "I thought he was up to something; I even thought that he might have—I don't know—_found out_."

Paulie looked up sharply, "You _sure_—"

"Yes, yes, I'm _sure_," he said, shaking away the suspicions with a wave of his hand, "No one said anything or even suspected where we met. Except Nami of course—and she doesn't know how _far_ we went."

The mechanic relaxed, "That girl needs to wear some long pants."

"Shut up Paulie."

~0~

"So…that guy…Sanji—he been going out with that guy for a while?"

Nami looked up from where she was busy going over the day's records and other paperwork, surprised. The greenhaired model must not have gone home yet, he was leaning against the doorjamb of her small office, looking at a poster she had hung up a long time ago—it showed a grove of tangerine trees.

She was immediately on guard but was smart enough not to show it. She didn't particularly care for Zoro Roronoa—she had been one of Sanji's aides for a little less than a year now and didn't like the fact that another model challenged _her _model. She glanced down at her papers and affected a busy, disinterested voice, "Hmm? Oh, of course. First time's he lasted so long with one person, you know. Surprising…" She trailed off and punched some numbers into the calculator on her desk.

"How long they been going out—long?" Zoro edged into her office and continued to glance around the walls, "I'm just asking since it's unusual for a model to be…you know—"

"Dating a set mechanic?" She continued, ruffling some papers and writing down some figures down, still keeping the casual tone, "Funny, huh? I think they're seven months is next Friday, but don't quote me. And they're so adorable together—Sanji had a lot of problems before Paulie came. I'm happy for them."

She almost snickered at that. Sanji had not had problems, unless you counted not being able to settle down with one person, but Zoro didn't need to know that. Zoro needed to know that the man that was obviously more handsome and more successful than him already had a wonderful, handsome man in his life and that they were deeply in love and there was no room in his life for an interloper. It was obvious that Zoro Roronoa had set himself to add Sanji's feather to his cap to augment his long lists of conquests. Well, he wouldn't achieve it, not if she could help it. Sanji deserved to be in love for once.

"Problems?" Zoro asked, and settled himself into the chair in front of her desk, playing with the little plush tangerine on her desk, "What do you mean?"

Nami put her glasses down and tried on a loves-to-gossip face, "Oh, the usual. Powdered snow." She cast a significant look at the man across her, "But Paulie came and snapped him out it. Saved his life and such."

"Hmm. How'd they even meet?" Zoro asked, and then quickly added, "I'm just curious. I didn't expect him to be with—a mechanic."

"Of course," she sweetly replied, "Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction brought him back. I'm not sure. But I think they started talking since they usually took their breaks outside the fourth studio, in the small alley that runs there. They smoke a lot so that's how." She shrugged, "Romantic in a way." She scrutinized his face subtlety, but could read nothing.

"Ah, and—" Zoro was cut off by his own phone. He took it out from his sweater –he had changed to his plainsclothes—and glanced at it before getting up, "I need to go, it's my girlfriend. Thanks for the chat." He smiled and walked out of the office, "See you tomorrow Ms. Pinwheel."

Nami smiled and waggled her jeweled fingers at him in goodbye. When the greenhaired model had left she burst into laughter and pretended to wipe away a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye, "Cute bastard…you don't have a girlfriend…but you do want a blond _boyfriend,_ don't you?" She chuckled again and started humming a Lady Gaga song under her breath. This would be an interesting next couple of days. Especially if Hancock pulled through with the idea the CEO had been flirting with for a while now. Then it wouldn't just be interesting, it would be fucking hilarious.

~0~

Stroke my beard damnit.


End file.
